


to which we return

by blodappelsin



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: CW: Seizures, CW: Vomiting Light, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, M/M, Male Azem (Final Fantasy XIV), Male Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Post-Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, Warrior of Light Is A Shard of Azem (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blodappelsin/pseuds/blodappelsin
Summary: Spoilers for 5.0 and beyond.The Light is poisoning him. Emet-Selch decides that can't happen.(Or, what would happen if watching the WoL be consumed by Light actually makes Emet-Selch change his mind.)
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 3
Kudos: 87





	to which we return

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted by another of the [Book Club](https://www.ratmansbookstore.com/) members, and it ran away with me. This is utter self-indulgence, please enjoy!

He spits, the glowing light splattering like blood against the pan. The next heave is dry, no less painful in the way his chest twists and burns like phosphorus in a crucible. He sees it under his skin, veins throbbing with light as it pulses along with his unsteady heartbeats. Blindly, he stares down at the veritable ocean of bile and Light collected in the pan on his lap, his frame trembling and utterly chilled. 

No one was meant to contain such an amount of corrupted aether - and that’s what it truly was. Light so pure and broken that it twisted what it touched. But dispersing it was posing a problem - one every Scion and the Exarch were fanatically researching - but a problem nonetheless. Kore’a finds his feet, swaying as black touches the edges of his vision briefly - he leans heavily against the wall, waiting for the vertigo to pass. 

The Keeper shuffles pathetically to the sink where he pours the vomit down the sink, wiping tears and snot from his face as the water runs boiling hot. Bracing himself against the edge of the stone basin, he closes his eyes and breathes slowly - in, hold, out, hold, and on and on - until he feels a little more attached to his own bones. 

“You’re dying,” comes softly from a familiar voice in the window. 

Kore’a looks up to find Ardbert staring at him, gaze wide and wounded with concern, fright. Opening his mouth to reassure the soul, he nearly bites his tongue clean in half as a seizure wracks his body again. He keens softly, hitting the floor, claws digging into the stone as he attempts to hold on through this agonizing episode. 

Collapsing, he tries to make some sort of reassuring sound but between one blink and the next Ardbert is gone. His vision is going grey, anyway, the other man shouldn’t be made to witness Kore’a lose control of himself in such a manner. He wondered, with no small amount of shameful desire, if this was how he finally died. An ignoble end, of course, but what else was he meant to expect? 

Kore’a relaxes as best he can, feeling his body spasm in an unattached way that meant he’d only feel the pain of it later. He supposes that’s a blessing of sorts. Dim blue-and-gold hues are locked on the ceiling that swims like a watercolor caught in the rain, when a face appears above him. 

Not Ardbert. The Keeper blinks, then finds his body calming - large, warm hands were oh-so-carefully picking him up from the floor, cradling his exhausted body to a broad chest. Still a little detached from himself, it takes a long moment more than it should have for him to notice the scent of the person.

Nutmeg, ambergris, woodsmoke - Emet-Selch. Had Ardbert gone to fetch the Ascian? Or had he simply stumbled over Kore’a in distress while coming to stare at him. Kore’a clutches weakly at the Garlean’s coat with one hand as he uses the other to count fingers - once he’s satisfied he’s not dreaming, he flicks an exhausted glance upward. 

Jaw clenched, lips thin and pressed together, the Ascian’s golden gaze is dark and hard. There was a familiarity of the expression that tugs at the back of Kore’a’s mind, revealing itself with the whisper of remembrance: that was Hades’ serious contemplation face. The realization that Emet-Selch was carrying him to the infirmary worms in a beat later, making him cough out a noise, catching the attention of intent golden hues. 

“No chir..geo..ns,” he manages, clutching at Emet-Selch as if he could make the man stop, “p-p-pl..se.”

But he does. Perhaps it was the patheticness of his plea, or how he clung to him - Kore’a wouldn’t ever guess. He’s scrutinized for several moments, that dark gold gaze intently searching. The Ascian heaves a deep sigh and shakes his head, brow knitting harshly, “If I were to cure you of this sickness, t’will not be pleasant for you - I assure you. I hardly believe that you would accept such a violent invasion of your person,” he mutters, before resuming his stride toward the doors. 

“St-top,” Kore’a struggles, finding just enough strength returning to cause the Ascian to grunt and stop once more, glowering at the catte. 

Kore’a meets his gaze stubbornly, “You can f-f-fix this?”

Emet-Selch stares at him, somewhat dumbfounded before nodding, “Yes,” he says slowly, looking a bit grim, “But it wouldn’t be pleasant.” 

Kore’a bites the inside of his cheek, staring at the Ascian, then quirks an ear in a familiar ‘go on’ gesture that makes those gold eyes narrow on him darkly. 

“To rid you of the Light corrupting you, I would need to force it out of you - my body consuming yours, until the Light is erased and only I remain,” he growls softly, eyes aglow. The tone aims for cruel, but the tick of the corner of his mouth says differently. 

Kore’a stares at him for a long enough that Emet-Selch readjusts his grip and starts forward again, only to stop stock still, at the softest, “Do it,” that floats up to him. Kore’a feels the Ascian’s hands spasm hard where they held him, before the grip is immediately gentled and the Miqo’te is shifted into a more..cradled hold than before. 

Emet-Selch steps forward and Kore’a finds himself in a wholly different location. 

The room is large, open, with enormous windows that looked out onto a lit city of tall buildings and strange spires - one that haunted Kore’a’s dreams his entire life. The room was mostly empty, save for an enormous bed on a dias with sheer, gauzy drapery enclosing it. There was a sideboard and some comfortable chairs near a set of doors leading to a terrace, a fireplace that took up most of a wall alone. Lush rugs covered cold marble floors, and beautiful lamps lined the walls, offering up warm, soft light. 

Amaurot. A ghost of it anyway. Kore’a wiggles out of Emet-Selch’s arms, ignoring the man’s outraged huff behind him, and stumbles his way to the balcony doors. He throws them open, and trips to the railing, the sound spilling out of him at the sight broken and ecstatic at once. 

“You brought me home,” he breathes, unaware of the way the Ascian behind him freezes, gold eyes gone wide. 

Kore’a chirps in surprise when he’s caught up and then hauled to the bed, where he’s tossed unceremoniously. The sheets below him are silky and warm, but he’s not able to enjoy that before he’s being roughly divested of his loose tunic and the draw-string pants he slept in. 

Emet-Selch kneels between his legs, biting his gloves off before tossing them aside. His hands are large compared to Kore’a’s slim frame, long fingers neatly lacquered dance over the various scars biting through the tattoos mapping out Amaurot’s skies when the world was whole eons past. His fingers linger over the various constellations, and Kore’a stares up at him, vulnerable but unashamed as gold eyes skate over every ilm of his skin. 

“Hades..” spills from his mouth before he can catch the letters behind his teeth, the snap of that dark gaze to his face making him flinch away, his own gaze cast to the windows. 

Fingers tilt his chin back, gold eyes catching his and his breath catches at the softness there. He’s given a simple glimpse of that look before his mouth is taken, fervently, deeply. His lips part easily for the tongue questing to taste behind his teeth, the Ascian sipping at his lips like he was some fine, rare wine. Kore’a loops his arms around Hades’ neck, knees and thighs falling open as the Garlean’s frame fitted itself between tilting him up onto Hades’ own thighs. Large hands sweep over him, exploring in broad swathes, leaving him warmer with each stroke. 

The haze of light is creeping in, greying out the edges of his vision as it crawls through his veins with pop-flares of pain that make him jerk and hiss beneath the Ascian. Emet-Selch shushes him softly, lifting Kore’a’s wrists above his head and pressing them there briefly before his mouth trails down the exposed column of throat, nipping lightly as he whispers unintelligibly. Lacquered nails scratch patterns Kore’a vaguely recognized as sigils into his ribs, his hips, his thighs. Each place is explored in what seems like a breath or a blink to Kore’a, but he knows somewhere that it’s been longer - and though he was expecting it, the first oiled finger draws his spine into a bow, his own clawed fingers curling into the pillows. 

With each whisper, each delicate scrape of nail - he can feel it, like threads, or ropes, chains even - being pulled from where they tangle within him, choking him to death with Light. Like working knots in muscles loose, whatever magic the Ascian was conducting was detangling the lines of Light - unspooling it from his veins and marrow to let it dissipate into nothingness. 

Left behind are little bruises and bites from where Hades’ mouth trails over the dips and planes of the squirming warrior’s body - a grin he can feel presses into his belly as a second, then a third finger are added alongside the first. He hasn’t been quiet, he doesn’t care - let the chirps and purrs and moans spill free from him as those fingers leisurely pump into him, thighs trembling and hips shifting in desperate want for more. He cares for nothing other than the heat growing between them, the sweat on their skin, the way Hades is looking at him. 

Despite what the man had warned, there was no violence here. No violation. No, Kore’a welcomes each and every touch with vocal encouragement, his body singing under Hades’ fingers like a violin might under a master musician’s. As the Light is banished with deep kisses and bites to his skin, a tongue over a nipple before it’s pinched, Kore’a squirms and keens, every thread of Light ripped from him tying him back into his body - back into sensation. 

“Please..” the plea spills from him on a rough purr, his hips canting up into the fingers teasing him now. 

The dark chuckle that vibrates against his jaw before he’s bitten makes him gasp, claws sinking into the pillows with a tearing sound. He feels it then, the wide, slick head of Hades’ cock, and he whines, feeling the mouth against his curve into a smile. They share hot, panting breaths, as ilm by ilm Hades slides into Kore’a, unceasing, until there’s only the press of hips and the gulping of breaths as Kore’a feels the other man’s heartbeat inside of him. 

He’s burning, being consumed just as promised. He hikes his legs up and wraps them around the other man’s slim waist, pulling a low groan from Hades. The Garlean frame settles over him, bending to cover entirely, one hand slipping into Kore’a’s and lacing their fingers together tightly, the other splayed wide beneath him along the curve of a thigh, pressing him wider as he’s pulled ever closer. Their hips roll together, almost lazily, just the shallowest of thrusts as they share breath, brows pressed together. 

Hades grinds into him, dragging throaty moans from his lips, smiling at his throat where he presses suckling, marking kisses, whispering soft, dark things into his skin that spoke of far deeper a thing than possession, of consuming. Tears spilled one by one from the corners of his eyes, only to be kissed away, Hades’ hands sliding free to scoop him up - drawing him in to straddle his spread thighs. Deeper, he gasps, it drags Hades’ deeper and he can’t help but throw his arms around the man’s neck and hold on as his hips are taken in a near bruising grip, the thighs he rests precariously on widening as Hades rocks back and then up, the slow melting away into a desperate needy taking. Their fingers would leave bruises come morning and Kore’a wouldn’t heal them, even if Hades never touched him again - he had this, even if fleetingly. 

As if catching the thought, Hades catches Kore’a’s mouth with his own, a hand lifting to cup the back of his head, cradling him even as he’s being driven into. 

“Mine,” he whispers against Kore’a’s mouth, “the Light cannot have you.”

“Yours,” Kore’a agrees, a loud purr exploding from his chest as long fingers card white strands of hair back from his face where they stick, continuing to pet even once neatened, “Neither can the Dark have you.” 

The world tips and he finds himself on his back - whining piteously as Hades oh-so-slowly withdraws his cock and flips the Miqo’te onto his belly, pulling him up by the hips before plunging within once more, forcing a cry out of him. He’s a mess of sweaty smoke-grey skin, wild white hair falling out of its braid, and claws shredding sheets as he cants his hips back into each forward thrust. The slap of skin, the melody of their voices, and the harsh, ragged breathing echo in the room, and even in the reverberation of his keening he doesn’t feel anything but pride because he can hear Hades’ growl louder than anything else. 

Hades falls over him, mouth attaching in a sharp bite at the nape of his neck, one hand sliding beneath Kore’a to encircle his own weeping cock, drawing a hiss from the Keeper when a languorous thumb rubs circles into the sensitive head. He can’t hold on, whatever magic wrought by the ancient mage built with his impending orgasm, and the Keeper isn’t sure he won’t be swept away with the Light. 

Covered and caged by the man above, he can’t help also feeling safer than he’d ever felt before - he clutches at the hand twining with his, holding on as if the other might vanish. The symbol just to the left of the base of his throat goes hot, blazing with gold light - the symbol of the sun. At Hades’ command to come, he lets go of everything - trusts the hands on him to keep him safe - and when the rush comes, he gives over gladly to the oblivion of it. 

-*-

He doesn’t know how long he’s been out, but when he wakes it’s like rising up in the warmest, most comfortable water, light filtering in soft waves. He counts his fingers, smiling at the reality of it as he stretches - only to go utterly still upon the feel of a body beside him and the soft, warm chuckle that gusts along his ear. 

“For a moment I had wondered if you would return to wakefulness in this century,” Hades teases, though when Kore’a opens his eyes to look at him, the Garlean’s face is far more somber than his tone. 

The Keeper shifts to face the Ascian fully, feeling himself drawn in to press flush, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he looks at Hades. Studies him up close as he’s finally been given the opportunity, lifting a finger to trace the lines worn into his face by innumerable years of grief and loneliness. 

Unbidden, a memory surfaces, and words spill free before he’s truly registered them, “I may wander, but my journey will always begin and end where my heart is - in your hands.” 

Gold eyes go wide, then Hades’ face crumples and he buries it into Kore’a’s hair. The Keeper winds his arms around Hades then, cradling him close as he shakes. He cards his fingers through auburn and white hair, letting the purr building free and hoping the gentle rumble will calm the tears he can feel dripping down his throat. 

“Though you wander, my heart ever goes with you, so pray protect it until you return home,” Hades whispers into his skin, finally, once the grief subsides and he can edge back enough to look at Kore’a again. 

“I’m home, Hades,” Kore’a whispers, blue eyes aglow in the dim light. 

“Welcome home, traveler,” Hades returns, gold eyes liquid and luminous, before a genuine smile curls his lips.

//End


End file.
